You're Beautiful
by Mikaela-Nicole
Summary: Because it's easier to hate myself than love myself.


**Mikaela just wanted me to tell you that it was a rough time with feeling like she was too fat, regardless of how much chemo brought down her weight. You just need to remember, that you are always beautiful, regardless of whatever petty insecurity that you may have.**

**Disclaimer: Neither Mikaela, or I, Madison, own the characters.**

**Mitchie's Point of View**

Every Sunday night, I would strip down to my underwear, and strut around my room like my life depended on it. My hips would jut out with every step, as my heels stomped the bedroom floor. I would never think about acting like this in public because I was too shy to even walk out of the house in short shorts and a tank top. I wasn't a huge girl, but a bit overweight, which was enough for me to cover up. My parents thought I was just modest, but the real reason is that I didn't want my fat giggling all over the place.

"You're fat," I said, pinching my waist where the love handles would spill over my skin tight skinny jeans. I never voiced my body issues to anybody because nobody would understand.

"You're so skinny," I remember Caitlyn telling me once I opened up about severe insecurities. It hurt that she didn't even try to understand how I felt. I just wanted someone to tell me that losing a few would be good for myself, but I wouldn't die from obesity anytime soon.

I continued to mentally pick my body apart. I waved my arms around, watching in the mirror, as they giggled around in the open air. I bent over, to get my face closer to the mirror, as my stomach rolled up. I moved my bangs to show off the plethora of zits that was concealed beneath my dark hair. I poked at the bags under my eyes, which never went away regardless of how much sleep I got, or whatever remedies the internet suggested. I smiled at myself, being thoroughly disgusted with how large my smile was, along with the slight gap I between my two front teeth.

"You're ugly," I scolded myself, staring into my deep brown pools, which was the only feature on my face that I genuinely liked, "You're ugly, and nobody likes you."

"I do," A voice from behind me, obviously startled me. I turned on the sharp heel of the stiletto, before falling flat on my ass. I didn't care that someone was in my room, who I couldn't even see because when I fell my hair whipped in my face, I cared about the fact that I might as well be in a bikini. The word bikini was such a foreign word for me because I never dared to don one.

"You need to leave," I said, flicking a finger at the doorway where Shane was standing. I gulped, hoping that he left, so I could throw on the baggiest clothes I could conjure up.

"No," Shane said, walking further in my room. I managed to crawl to my bed, and grab the comforter to throw it over my body. He kneeled in from of me, "You're beautiful."

"You're only saying that," I said, suddenly feeling bashful. I tilted my head away from him. His hand caught my chin to swivel my head back to looking at him. I licked my lips, and closed my eyes. I didn't want to look at him.

"No, I'm not," Shane said, as I thought about me being a size zero, like the models that parade around on magazine covers. Or, with flawless skin like the actress in Hollywood. Or, feeling confident in my own skin like the singers that march around the stages. Those were the three things that I wanted from my life. I wanted to do each one at least one. But, I would never be good enough for them.

"Shane, you are. You don't have to be nice to me anymore. Camps over and you're allowed to have your attitude back," I snidely said, tugging the edges of the comforter tighter around my body. I opened my eyes, only to see that Shane was searching my face. I didn't know what he was searching for, but I was pretty positive that he wouldn't find it on my face.

"Fine," Shane said, standing up. He looked to tall from down here half–naked on the floor. His hands were placed affirmatively on his hips, "You're ugly. You're the scum of the planet. You have no friends. You're fat. Size four is no longer flattering with those muffin tops. You need to start working out, and starving yourself, and throwing up everything you put in your mouth."

Tears quickly shot up in my eyes, before they broke the barrier, and tragically fell down my face. I had never had someone tell me that before. I felt sick to my stomach. I wrapped my arms tighter around my chest, trying to protect what little dignity and self–respect I had left. He stood there, looking dominant, with soft eyes. He sat on the floor merely a foot away.

"Mitchie, look, you're –"

"Stop talking," I said, trying to get my composure back. I closed my eyes, trying to get my heart back up from its sinking into my stomach.

"You're gorgeous. You're one of the most beautiful people that I've ever met. You're the most outgoing person, always talking to someone about something with your brightest smile," Shane said, his hands cupped around my face, "And, if I find out that you're starving yourself, I will knock some sense into you."

"I won't ever," I silently promised, not knowing what to say about the rest of his speech about how wonderful I was. I glanced away from him, but his hands were still delicately holding my face hostage.

"Good," Shane softly said, as a comfortable silence fell between us. He playfully smirked at me, "So, this is how you spend every Sunday night?"

"No," I denied, furiously blushing, which no doubt must have heated up his hands which were on my cheeks. I sucked in my bottom to nibble at it like I always did when I was nervous.

"Now, you get up, and look in that mirror and only say positive things," Shane demanded, after winking at my horrible lying skills. He helped me up, as the comforter fell to the floor.

"I don't want to," I said, knowing that I only hated whatever I would see in the mirror. Always.

"Too bad," Shane said, spinning me around to face myself in the mirror. I looked at him watching me in the reflection. I glanced back, before looking back at my body. I gave myself a one over, trying to think of one think that I genuinely like about myself.

"I guess my eyes are good," I softly said, now wanting being able to come up with the real reason. Shane gave me a hard stare in the mirror. I sighed.

"You guess? Good?" Shane questioned at my weak words. I wanted to sink through the floor, anything to be out of this situation.

"Then, you tell me something because I don't have anymore," I said, spinning around, successfully not falling down this time. I stared at him, almost eye level because the insane stilettos made me almost his height.

"Your eyes are the best shade of brown. Your smile can light up a room. You can pull off the latest Hollywood trends better than the people on the magazine covers. You have more talent that Hannah Montana, or whatever her real name is. You are perfect the way you are," Shane finished off, laying a soft kiss on my forehead, "Why can't you see that?"

"Because it's easier to hate myself than love myself," I confided in him, feeling brave. I mean, here I was, standing in my underwear and stilettos, in front of Shane Gray, front man of Connect 3, and most recent hardcore crush.

"Well, if you ever doubt yourself, or it's another Sunday night, just call me," Shane said, as I smiled one of those large smiles that I hate because it takes over the majority of my face, but Shane brought a new light to my smile. He liked it enough, which made me start to think about how my smile made me unique.

"And, then what?" I asked, knowing that the conversation was over, but I didn't want him to go. Not yet.

"I'll come right over to talk some more sense into you," Shane chuckled, as I suddenly pulled him closer to me in a tight hug.

"Thank you," I whispered, resting my head on his broad chest. He rubbed my bare back, as I momentarily forgot all about that I was standing in my skivvies.

Neither of us said a word, as we slightly parted from our hug, but not enough to fully break it off. His head was tilted down, looking at me, as I gave him a big smile. He laughed at my broad smile. He slowly tilted his head down, his eyelids fluttering closed. I followed in the same rhythm. Our lips softly brushed, before we deepened the entire moment.

"You know, it's been an entire hour, and you haven't died from someone seeing you," Shane said, with a soft smile. I laughed, with another toothy smile, gaps and all. I knew it would be a slow progress to actually liking my body for how it was, but I wouldn't be doing it alone.

"It's only you," I said, trying to make a point that this one breakthrough couldn't possibly get me through the entire insecurities. Shane tried to look genuinely offended, but it all crumbled down when his smile broke through.

"Next step, getting you into a bikini by the pool," Shane said, jostling me around by my, so called, slender hips.

**I, personally, think this is a wonderful story about how much girls struggle with body image. Reviews make Mikaela super duper happy.**


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